Demon Hunters-R-Us BY JORDRE
by Jake Crepeau
Summary: An Initiative-like organization is created, because the military cannot ignore the existence of any threat once it has become aware of it. But no one ever said that the demons had to cooperate with that sentiment. Part 1 of "Nomen Vampyri Rex." Rated M for language, possibly disturbing imagery, and implied m/m relationships; vampires, don'tcha know.
1. Chapter 1

**Demon Hunters-R-Us**

An Initiative-like organization is created, because the military cannot ignore the existence of any threat once it has become aware of it. But no one ever said that the demons had to cooperate with that sentiment. Part 1 of "_Nomen Vampyri Rex_." Rated M for language, possibly disturbing imagery, and implied m/m relationships; vampires, don'tcha know.

Story is complete, and will be posted spaced out over several days.

**A/N:**This story has actually been in the works since sometime in the summer of 2010, although I didn't sit down to actually start writing it until late July of 2012. The basic story for it was "played out" in discussions between my roommate (and beta), Jake, and I, usually late at night when we both should have been sound asleep. Without her able input, it would never have been written. Started 7-29-2012; completed 8-20-2012.

**A/N2:** This starts several years post-NFA, and is 98% Original Characters. The Badges for parts one and two are original works by me, and do not represent any actual military units to the best of my knowledge.

**Disclaimer: (applies to all subsequent chapters; I'm not gonna write this over every time.) **All rights to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _and_ Angel the Series_ belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy; Any Humans and Vampires that you might recognize are his. All others are mine; I'll put his back without too much damage when I'm done playing with them. Some situations referred to are taken from both _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _and_ Angel the Series, _but I'm too lazy to go looking them up to specifically footnote them. If some item or situation sounds like something you wrote, please understand that I didn't intentionally take what was yours; it just apparently made enough of an impression to really stick in my brain.

**Prologue**

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today, Stu; I know this is a… delicate… topic."

"Delicate!" General Stuart Durgan snorted in disbelief. "Delicate? It's political and career suicide, is what it is. After what those egg-headed imbeciles tried to do the last time…"

"And I'm not proposing anything like that," General Mitchell Payne cut in over the other man's objections. "You have to admit, though, that we can't just totally ignore the facts, either. Demons _are_ out there. Yes, many are harmless; we'll just have to determine which are the innocuous types—those Watcher chaps can tell us that. And the only scientific types I'm proposing… Well, read for yourself." He paused to pass over a slim folder to his fellow officer.

Durgan reluctantly accepted the file as it slid over the polished mahogany surface of the conference table. His scowl faded, although not by much, as he skimmed through the first few sheets of the proposal.

He looked up after about ten minutes. "Just a medical staff, huh? That's what went wrong the last time, Mitch: the damned 'scientists' and their butchery."

"The only thing they'd be there for would be to support our _human_ personnel, Stu… and implant those behavior-modification chips. We have no reason to slice-n-dice the demons to be used as hunting beasts; we've got the backup files of the old Initiative for that sort of thing." General Payne leaned towards the table, urgently trying to sell his idea. "We have to do _something,_ Stu; the aggressive demons aren't going to just go away. Plus we don't have access to any super-powered people—I won't even _try_ to suggest dealing with those… 'Slayers,' I believe they're called. I don't want to expose our boys to that sort of danger without giving them some sort of edge."

"And just _who_ is supposed to deal with these so-called 'tame' demons, Mitch? Who is going to 'acquire' our startup stock, hmmm?" Slowly General Durgan let the aggression melt from his muscles. It wasn't really that bad a proposal, as far as it went. He could see several potential problems, though. "Just how are you going to ensure that we don't… lose any of our hunter-demons out in the field? GPS locators?"

"We could implant those at the same time as the correction chips. And enough of the Spec Ops boys from the Sunnydale debacle survived that we can use them to obtain our starting stock. After that? I figure military dog-handlers, for the hunters." He let his enthusiasm loose a bit more, but then suddenly sobered. "We _have_ to do something, Stu. It's still small, but there's a new Hellmouth opened up, just northwest of St. Louis…"

**Chapter 1**

The base was set up in an old, long-abandoned missile site from the bad old days of the Cold War and the Cuban Missile Crisis. Reconditioning went nearly unnoticed. St. Louis' mayor and city council were told that it was to be a training base for counter-terrorist groups and that units might be seen who were training against urban terrorists. When concerns were voiced about the Army's known practice of running live-fire exercises, they were smoothed over with reassurances that only non-lethal weaponry, such as Tasers and rubber bullets, would be used. No exercises would be announced in advance, but any units seen wearing black uniforms should please be ignored and, if possible, avoided.

After a brief initial furor, the general populace decided that this might actually be a good thing after all, since soldiers in the area meant more paychecks to be spent. There was little to no protest against their presence, especially since strange things had started happening in the area several months previously: pets and the homeless disappearing, odd break-ins… who really knew what the _real_ reasons were for the decision to reactivate the old base? The conspiracy theorists had a field day with all the rumors, but things soon settled, and then the first patrols could be glimpsed occasionally at all sorts of odd hours.

~oOo~

"Hey, Cap'n, you ever figured t'be doin' this again?"

Captain Graham Miller, US Army, former Ranger, now Special Operations, looked thoughtfully at the young sergeant who'd asked the question. Had he? "No, not really, Sarge," he answered slowly. "Truth be told, I kinda hoped I'd be done with demon-hunting after our stint in South America. You missed out on that one, lucky you."

Sergeant Joe Reardon looked back in surprise. The dim red "ready" light in the van made it hard to see his captain's features clearly, but it seemed as though Miller just looked… disgusted? "But I thought…"

"No, it wasn't a great adventure, Joe," Miller cut off his squad sergeant's thoughts. "It was hot, dirty work that didn't really do anyone any good. Most of the 'hostiles' we found and took out were actually harmless types. It was like taking out civilians; nothing to be proud of. At least here, we're going after vamps." Miller looked around at his men, catching each one's eyes. "Vamps, and _only_ vamps, unless something else attacks us first. Remember that. Clear?"

"Yessir, Cap'n," muttered replies came back.

Miller sighed once more. Most of these men had been down in South America with him; Reardon had still been in the infirmary, recovering from the takedown of Adam and the old Initiative. They'd been sickened by the slaughter and would follow orders now, even if only to avoid a repeat. He'd just have to keep an eye on Reardon.

The windowless van was slowing now, on the outskirts of a run-down industrial section of the city, finally stopping to let the high-tech hunters out to seek their prey. Black-clad figures alighted, scanners sweeping the area in search of "cold" bodies, suspicious activity having been noted in this general area. In the predawn darkness, vamps still at large should be straggling back to their lairs, to sleep and wait out the daylight hours; the plan was to track them back and, hopefully, capture a whole group instead of wasting time and effort just picking off individuals.

Finally, a lone form was detected. The group's sniper carefully aimed, then fired the special round. It hit the vamp's back, dusting his jacket with the special tracking powder. The target jumped at the slight impact, looking wildly around in all directions. Apparently finding nothing, not even the scent of a possible threat, he hurriedly dropped down an open manhole into the sewers and out of his stalkers' sight.

"Tracking now, sir," Polinsky, the surveillance tech, quietly announced over the squad's comms. "Signal loud and clear; target still moving in the same general direction as before tagging."

"Very good, corporal; let me know when he settles." Miller hated this, but at least their superiors were being more intelligent about things this time. Vampires could be tamed — Hostile 17 was proof of that — once they accepted the limitations imposed by the chips. Harnessing their strengths to use against other aggressive hostiles made sense, sort of. Hopefully, this time the so-called _scientists_ could be kept out of things — it still sickened him to recall some of what they'd discovered those white-coated butchers doing back in Sunnydale — leaving him still with some doubts and reservations about this operation.

Twenty minutes later, Polinsky reported the target to be stationary; the location, a moderate-sized factory, was identified, and the squad pulled back to await daylight and a carefully planned mid-morning raid. Blueprints were studied, all possible exits located, and two extra squads brought in. The vamps should all be sleeping by then, or at least groggy; Tasers would bring the nest's occupants down relatively unharmed.

The raid went off without a hitch, netting seventeen vampires in good condition, and liberating six humans who were found chained in a storeroom, all bearing wounds in evidence of feeding by the vamps. The targets were all carefully bagged and tagged, and loaded into closed cargo vans for transport to the training facility. There, correction chips would be implanted first thing; then, a few days later, handlers would be assigned, and the training would start. Once again Miller hoped that they weren't making another huge mistake. It was out of his hands, though. With a final sigh, he watched his men load up for transport back to the base. There would be reports to write up now, and a debrief and critique of the mission to do, and then, at last, they could all get some chow and shut-eye.

Mission over; all back safely. This one was a success, and now Graham Miller could go home and forget about vampire-hunting as much as he could.

~oOo~

Slowly memory returned, along with consciousness. He ached; every muscle in his body felt like one huge bruise. He could hardly remember the last time he'd hurt so badly—perhaps the time he'd nearly drained his Sire's—Master Zachary's—favorite Pet? Or was it… He cut off the thought as he became more aware of his surroundings.

Glaring white seemed to penetrate his closed eyelids. He tried to turn his head, only to realize that he lay on a cold, hard surface… and was so heavily restrained that he could barely move.

And then he remembered the humans invading the lair where he and his three Childer had planned to pass the day, before moving on. They had been assured that they would be safe there… Obviously not. He remembered the stories he'd heard from California, of a human "project" that had captured and tortured demons, and worried for the well-being of his Childer.

Gradually his eyes adjusted to the painfully bright light. He looked around cautiously, trying not to appear conscious. The situation did _not_ look good at all. He was lying close to what appeared to be the back wall of his… cell, he supposed. By the pressure around his neck, he guessed himself to be secured there, no doubt by a very short chain. The wall was white—some sort of tile. It felt like he was lying on a similar surface… and they'd taken all his clothes, the bastards. That would make it harder to escape, but he knew he'd eventually manage to, _and _find his Childer. And then they'd pay. No human could be allowed to treat a master vampire like this.

The sound of footsteps and fast-beating human hearts drew his attention away from where he lay and towards the front of his cell. Several stopped before reaching him; several others, in unmarked military-style uniforms, walked past before one stopped at his cell. The man did something to the wall beside the opening; a huge sheet of glass slid half-aside, leaving a true opening. He hadn't even realized that glass was there; what had they done to him?!

"'Mornin', Hostile 386V," the human said, approaching him confidently. "I've got your breakfast here… and no, _I'm_ not breakfast. It's human, though, and, if I were you, I'd be good and drink it before it gets cold, because I doubt you'll see too much more human blood served up here. They'll feed you, but it'll be animal blood—cow or pig, most likely."

The human was trying to act confident, but he could see the tension in the body that crouched down next to him. He could smell the man's nervousness, although he was controlling himself very well. Rex lifted a lip around the edges of his gag, showing his fangs. He growled… and a bolt of lightning shot through his brain.

"Oh, hell," he heard the human mutter in disgust as he closed his eyes, riding out the pain. _What the __**hell**__ was that?_ Rex wondered, trying not to panic.

"Easy; just try to relax, or you'll just hurt yourself more," the human said, trying to soothe him, but not laying a hand on him. "You can't hurt any of us," the man continued, sounding unhappy. "You have a correction chip implanted in your brain. You'll get zapped any time you try, or even _think_ too strongly about trying. I'll talk to 'em; I don't think it's supposed to be _that_ harsh, not for a mere warning.

"Look, don't try to bite me, okay? I've gotta take that gag off so you can eat. Don't know how those idiots expect you to be able to feed, otherwise. But you'd best not try to talk. I heard some of 'em trying to recommend that you vamps be 'muted,' as they so cleanly called it." The sarcastic sneer couldn't have been missed even by another human, much less a vampire. "We've got 'em talked out of that for now, but you don't want to give 'em any ammo, okay? Hold still, now."

The soldier reached forward carefully, clearly aware of how fast a vampire could move and strike with his fangs. Rex shifted his jaw as the gag fell away, easing his jaw muscles. Similar instructions had obviously been given in other cells, but not as successfully, for Rex could now hear sounds of pain as others tried to bite despite the warnings given. And then he heard a voice rise in threats and curses, one he knew very well. "Edward: Be silent!" he called, using Sire's Voice, risking it once to save his oldest Childe. He said nothing more, staring at the human in challenge, but it was enough. The other voice fell silent, and the human grinned.

"Thanks," he said, then offered the bag of blood he carried to Rex. _"This,_ you can bite," he added with a grin, "Just don't try imagining that it's me. It's still kinda warm."

Rex let his features shift fully into his gameface, his fangs dropping now that the metal plate of the gag no longer prevented it; with a snake-quick lunge, he sank them into the proffered bag. The human paled a bit, but he didn't flinch. A brave one, that. But Rex was hungry, so he just concentrated on his meal until the bag was empty—much too quickly. It was good—very fresh—despite being bagged, but he wondered just how long he'd been out, to be so hungry. Done, he eased back and looked up at the soldier, wondering what came next.

"Okay," the man said, taking a deep breath. This told Rex that he wasn't going to like what he would be hearing. "I've gotta put the gag back in. Would you, ummm… go back to your human face? You'll be more comfortable that way. The gag's gotta be on, and I'd rather not have to Tase you again. Rather keep this on a nice professional level, you know what I mean? You'll be getting your actual handler in another day or two; I'm just here to feed you until he gets done inprocessing. So change back and open up, all right? I don't want to have to hurt you."

Rex looked at him as he considered the situation. He was helpless at the moment, and, as much as he hated to admit it, the human _was_ trying to be decent. He let his human mask slide into place, holding the man's eyes. Keeping his voice carefully lowered, he said, "I'm _not_ 'Hostile whatever-you-said;' my name is Rex, Childe of Zachary, of the line of Whittington." Then he opened his mouth and held still for the gag with as much dignity as he could still muster.

~oOo~

"Sir, Sergeant Taylor reporting as ordered, sir."

The colonel sitting behind the desk looked up sourly at the young staff sergeant standing at rigid attention before him, holding a crisp salute. "At ease, Sergeant," he muttered, shifting his gaze back down to the jacket on his desk. He continued reading a few minutes longer, then sat back in his chair with a sigh. "So. Two tours in Iraq. What made you decide to sign up for this, Sergeant Taylor?" he asked, looking over the young man more carefully.

"Sir, they asked for dog handlers," Taylor slowly explained. "I'd just lost my bomb-sniffer to a sniper a couple of months back; there's a waiting list, sir. I wanted another dog, so this Spec Ops group sounded like a good idea, sir."

"Well, you sure got a Special Op, Sergeant," the colonel not-quite-sneered back. "This group's… animals… are to be trained to seek out and destroy hostiles. They're attack animals, not bomb-sniffers or drug dogs."

"That's not a problem, sir," Taylor said when the colonel paused, obviously waiting for his reaction.

"Yeah, well, you won't be getting a friendly pooch here, Taylor. They're intelligent and vicious; you can't turn your back on 'em or trust 'em too far. But you're here now; get your quarters assigned and drop off your gear; briefing is at 1900 in the mess hall. You'll get your animal assigned then. Dismissed."

Robert Taylor stared in disbelief as Colonel Heiser rose from his seat and walked out of his office without another look in his direction. _What the hell was going on here, anyway?_ he wondered. That colonel seemed pissed about something—almost as if he didn't approve of this assignment. Whatever was wrong with these dogs? Having no other options, he left the office also, meeting back up with his escort to find his quarters, as ordered.

"Quite the charmer, ain't he?" the escort snorted as they headed down the corridor.

"Umm, sour like that a lot, is he?" Taylor cautiously asked.

"Oh, yeah. A real ray of sunshine. Here's your room, Sarge; I got a base map for you, so's you can find the chow hall. At least the grub is good." He handed over the folded page and started to leave as Taylor opened the door to his room.

"Hey, hold up a mo'; what's wrong with the dogs, that the Old Man's all with the warnings?" Taylor asked, letting his concern show.

"Those beasts ain't dogs, Sarge… but you'll find out at the briefing." Without a further word, the escort left, leaving Robert Taylor more confused than ever.

~oOo~

He was at the mess hall at 1730, and not the only one early, either. It was easy to tell who the new animal handlers were; they were the ones with an assortment of patches and rank insignia on their uniforms. Almost everyone else had, at the most, name tags on theirs, at least here on base. Taylor recognized one or two that he'd seen before leaving St. Louis this morning for the trip out here; they'd been in standard ACUs(1) then. He suspected now, though, that their unit patches were not the actual ones they should have been wearing.

It seemed as if the more he learned, the more questions he had. Hopefully those questions would be answered soon. Hiding his concerns, he joined the line for dinner. He could only hope for the best and wait to see what was going on.

~o~

By 1845, the only ones left in the mess hall were Taylor, the other new handlers, and about six of the guys dressed in the same all-black uniforms he'd been issued on arrival here.

Silence fell as a major walked to the front of the room, looking grim. "All right, men; take your seats. You're all here, so we may as well start. My name is Major Greene; I'm in charge of your training. You have all signed non-disclosure agreements, correct?" He paused until he'd seen each of the new men nod in affirmation. "We have a lot of material to go over; none of it is known to the general public, and most of it will sound too fantastic to be true. We wish it _weren't_ true, but, unfortunately, it is, so _we _are left to deal with the problem.

"I know that most of you have come back very recently from combat zones overseas; you may not be aware of some recent events here in the States. A few years ago, there was a disaster in California; a small town by the name of Sunnydale was swallowed up by a large sink-hole. That, at least, is what was reported to the press. The town _did_ fall into a huge hole; it was totally obliterated. It was _not,_ however, the natural disaster that was reported.

"Our government has known for quite some time that the human race shares this world with a number of other intelligent creatures." Major Greene paused to watch his audience as numerous confused looks were exchanged among the men; everybody knew about dolphins by now. "Gentlemen, your attention, please!" he snapped, drawing every eye back to the front of the room. "A good many of the people in charge tried to deny their existence; others tried to claim that they are just "dumb animals." The fact remains that demons _do_ exist, they are intelligent, and a number of types are a threat to mankind. Our job here is to hunt out the dangerous ones." He paused again to let the muttering among the men die out once more before continuing. "These creatures are, in many cases, stronger, faster, and possess better senses than humans do. They are frequently harder to kill. Some can even pass for humans; most, however, cannot hide their differences, so they haunt the night. We have specialized equipment to help detect these beings, and weaponry that is fairly effective against them, but the most effective approach is to use another demon to take them down.

"After careful study, it has been determined that the species most readily available and _trainable_ for this task is the vampire."

Voices were raised in loud protest around Taylor over this supposed hoax, but he wasn't so sure it _was_ a hoax. He'd heard some rumors the last time he'd been home; he'd known that strange sightings had taken place in and around LA that couldn't be waved off as just movie stunts. But… _vampires?_

The next thirty minutes were taken up viewing classified videos taken in the now-defunct Sunnydale. A number of different demons were shown, including several that looked like men with very distorted faces. These, they were told, were vampires in their natural appearance, or "gameface," as one of the black-clad soldiers called it.

_Yeah,_ Taylor thought wryly, _those guys sure as hell __**aren't**__ dogs. Vampires… who'd'a thunk!_

At last Major Greene declared that there were to be no more questions. Two of the men requested reassignment; they were told that they would be given other duties, but they would not be leaving the base until the others had finished their training. Taylor was glad that he'd kept his mouth shut, as he'd seen the major carefully noting who made the most objections during the briefing.

He followed after their escorts with the rest of the group, and, oddly, he felt his curiosity and excitement increasing. They were going to get their "animals" assigned now—living, breathing vampires… well, un-living, non-breathing, anyway. He grinned at his own humor, wondering what they would be like.

"Men, understand," the major continued his lecture as they headed towards an outlying area of the underground base. "These vampires have had control chips implanted surgically in their brains. They receive an electrical shock, should they attempt to attack or otherwise harm a human. They can still hurt you if you become careless or complacent, because they may be fast enough to get one strike in before the chip incapacitates them.

"It will be up to you to get your hostile to obey, and to hunt on command."

"Sir?" Taylor interrupted in concern. "I don't think we should refer to _our_ vamps as hostiles. That's what you call the enemy; if we're to be working with these beings, we will need to establish some sort of rapport to be effective. Perhaps a better term for them would be 'Hunters'?"

"You're… Taylor, yes?" Major Greene inquired. "You're one of our experienced dog-handlers?"

"Yessir, and yes, I do understand that these are _not_ dogs, sir," Taylor responded, anticipating what Greene might say next. "Still, sir, _any_ animal with even a modicum of intelligence responds better when treated with some degree of respect. Any lion-trainer will tell you the same thing: You don't yell or curse at something you have to work with, especially if you know it's dangerous and can eat you instead of doing the 'trick' you want it to do."

"A good point, Sergeant," Major Greene acknowledged softly. "I will take your suggestion for a change in their designation into consideration, perhaps to go into effect once one becomes operational. Good enough?"

"Yessir," Taylor agreed, knowing when not to push further.

By this point they had arrived at a long corridor of glaringly white tiles, lined along one side with glass-fronted cubicles—more like small rooms, Taylor thought. The first they passed was empty, but the next contained a naked young man, chained hand and foot, a chain around his neck and a metal gag in his mouth. The man next to Taylor started to mutter unhappily until a startling change came over the chained captive's face. There was an odd crunching sound; then the man's brown eyes turned a vivid yellow, and the teeth elongated and became ragged-looking.

"That's a gameface," one of the escorts said in explanation. "All the vamps do that before they bite; they don't have to shift if they're just gonna beat you down."

"Some of the older ones can just drop their fangs; they don't have to go into full gameface," another black-clad soldier continued the explanation. "If you're feeding them bagged blood, they can keep their human mask to drink it, especially from a mug or glass, but most prefer to change, I've been told, the better to savor the flavor."

There some quiet groans at his attempt at humor before the major continued, "These are all males; it was decided that it would be too dangerous to use females for this. Too much chance of one of you forgetting what you were dealing with and just seeing a 'poor defenseless girl,' or some such rot. We've collected nearly two dozen of these things; go ahead and look at 'em. See if any one catches your eye particularly. I'll make assignments after that if no one has a preference."

Taylor wandered up the corridor with the others, gazing in at the occupants. The vampires seemed to range in age from late teens to perhaps early-to-mid twenties. There was no way to tell, just by looking, how old they really were. He went the length of the occupied cells, then started back, studying the vamps more carefully. Midway down he paused, noting the particular level of intelligence showing in the green eyes of that vampire. He glanced at the keypad to get his designation and was mildly surprised to see a Post-It note beneath the official title of H386V, with the handwritten notation:

_Rex  
__Childe of Zachary,  
__Line of Whittington__._

Taylor looked back down the corridor. "Major Greene, sir?" he called. "Can I have this one?"

"Something about him particularly strikes your fancy, Sergeant?" Greene asked.

Taylor wasn't sure he really cared for the tone of the major's question. "Yessir," he answered anyway. "I like the look in his eyes."

**Notes**

(1) Army Combat Uniform, more commonly known among civilians as BDUs, though that term is no longer used in the military.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_**Mess hall, O730 the next morning**_

"Sergeant Taylor?"

Taylor looked up to answer the call. "That's me," he acknowledged, wondering what this black-clad soldier wanted.

"Good," the man said. "I'm Captain Miller, but you can just call me Graham; we're pretty informal in the Teams. C'mon with me. I've been feeding your vamp; thought you'd like to meet him over his dinner." He had a relaxed air to him, as if dealing with a blood-sucking demon was no big deal.

"Okay," Taylor agreed, swallowing any misgivings with the last of his coffee. "My name's Robert. I prefer Rob over Bob, sir. Or just Taylor."

"Please, just Graham," the other man insisted as Taylor rose from the table to follow him out into the corridor. "We don't wear rank tabs for a reason; calling rank just defeats the purpose. And as the vamp's handler, you're just as important as any officer—if you can get him to work for you."

"Right… Graham," Taylor conceded. He looked curiously at the small insulated bag the other man carried. "That blood for Rex?" he asked, allowing his curiosity free rein as he walked beside the other man.

"Yup. He gets two bags a day; might need more if he gets hurt. Vamps need blood to heal, but at least they can recover from injuries that would kill one of us. You read the care sheet yet?" he asked as they approached the holding cells.

"Yeah. Is it true they do just as well on animal blood? Why do they hunt us, then?" Taylor wanted to know; he had a feeling that this was actually more important than the briefing handouts indicated, but what did he really know?

"An old buddy of mine was dating a girl some years back," Miller slowly started to explain, carefully skirting around still-classified details. "There was a vamp there—he'd escaped from one of our facilities after being chipped. He hung around with her and her friends; they gave him some blood, and he helped fight other demons—this was back in Sunnydale, though no one will admit to any of this now. My buddy said that Hostile Seventeen—that's the vamp—used to bitch about the taste of cow and pig's blood; said that he claimed to heal faster when fed human. One of the girl's friends used to slip him blood-bank rejects when he could afford to buy them. But our white-coated… _associates_… claim that it makes no difference, that blood is blood."

"Right," Taylor drawled thoughtfully, then grimaced. "And everything tastes like chicken—except beef and pork." He'd caught the sarcasm Graham put on the word "associates" and had taken careful note of it, sensing that that, too, was important. _Why does it make me think of Karbunkle?_ he thought as his mind immediately dredged up the image of the sadistic mad scientist from an old cartoon show.(1)

They stopped and glanced in at the captive vampire in the white-tiled cell. "One thing you should know," Graham said as he keyed the entrance open, then handed the key card to Taylor. "No matter what kind of blood it is, they all act like it tastes better at body temperature, and I don't doubt that in the least. "'Mornin', Rex," he added, looking the vampire in the eyes. "Brought someone you need to meet. This is gonna be your handler, Taylor."

It was hard to get a true impression of the vampire, besides his intelligence-filled, vivid green eyes. He had what was probably blond hair, although it was hard to tell through the dirt. Maybe strawberry blond, Taylor guessed, going by the color of his eyebrows. He was clearly well muscled, but not heavily so. Height was anyone's guess at the moment; his chains kept him folded uncomfortably. "Does he have to be chained up like that?" Taylor protested, appalled at the treatment. "He's gotta be in agony from cramps! How long has he been like this?"

Miller frowned. "He wasn't all bent up like that last night; someone's been in here since I gave him his dinner. You okay, Rex?" He crouched down as he asked, reaching for the gag to release it. But the vampire shifted into gameface and tried to bite, despite the gag he wore. He jerked as the chip jolted him, crying out in pain and huddling in on himself as much as possible.

_"Shit!_ What's wrong with him, Graham?" Taylor demanded, practically shoving Miller out of his way to drop down beside _his_ vampire, and he began to stroke across the trembling shoulders. "Easy, there," he began to murmur as he rubbed slow circles down the top of his back, soothing the vampire as he would have Casey, his old bomb-sniffer.

"Someone's been in here, messing with him," Miller growled in anger. "He's never actually snapped at me before; hasn't even growled at me since the first day here. I'm gonna bust some heads when I find out who it was."

He watched as the vamp began to relax slowly under Taylor's touch, then offered the insulated bag. "Here; you'll have to take his gag off so he can feed, though."

"Yeah; in a minute," Taylor said, his eyes never leaving the vampire's yellow-eyed glare. "I want to ease these chains first, and rub some of the cramps out. Truthfully, I'd rather not be bitten while I try to make him more comfortable; he's obviously feeling threatened, and I don't blame him in the least. There's too many people around here who clearly don't approve of this project and aren't above taking it out on helpless victims like him."

Carefully the man called Taylor released catches, letting Rex stretch out and relax. He did ache fiercely, having been chained up tightly all night long, after that coward had "played" with him a while. And the brown eyes that studied him showed only concern, not pity or derision. He let his gameface slide back into his human mask and didn't fight the human's careful touches.

He looked back over at the other one, the man who'd been feeding him up until now. The human had been cautious, but as respectful as he could be as his keeper. He'd only snapped as a reflex; it had been a _very_ bad hour or so under that other's hands. Someday he'd get his revenge, Rex vowed silently; no mere human could treat _him_ like that and get away with it. He could wait; the punishment would definitely fit the crime.

He caught the scent of nervousness in the air and looked back at his new "handler" in interest. The human had leaned away from him, although keeping one hand on his shoulder, to reach for the bag the other man—Graham; now he had a name for him—had offered, the bag that he knew would have his blood, hopefully still warm. The scent of nerves was no doubt because this Taylor knew he'd have to remove the gag, and he'd already seen Rex try to bite once. He felt a brief surge of pleasure knowing that, even clearly helpless, he still inspired fear in these puny humans.

"What've we got here?" Taylor asked as he accepted the bag.

"It's the last bag of human I could talk them out of; you'll be issued cow or pig from now on," Graham admitted unhappily.

Taylor just shrugged. "Better than nothing," he said philosophically. "And it's still a nice glad-to-meet-ya present. How do you recommend I do this, anyway?"

"Well, some of the guys just peel that covering off, over the inlet port, and squirt it into the vamp's mouth," he suggested unhappily. "I've been taking his gag out and letting him bite the bags. I'll warn you, he strikes really fast, but, like I said, he's never tried to bite me before today."

"Yeah, well, I'd say he had just cause today," Taylor replied. "How do I get this thing off him, anyway?" He leaned over to examine the gag more carefully, noting that it also prevented the wearer's mouth from opening more than about a half-inch. It put him well within reach of the vampire's mouth, and Graham held his breath, but Rex made no move against this new human now.

"Never mind; got it." Taylor had the device off and out of the vampire's mouth without moving back first. No; the young fool was turning the vamp's head, carefully examining the sides of his mouth for damage. "Damn, look at this! His mouth's all torn up at the corners!" he swore angrily, looking over at Miller, but still not moving back, still keeping one hand on the vampire's cheek.

Rex made himself hold still under this idiot's… no, he was just concerned, and inexperienced. The other one, Graham, knew just what Taylor risked—he could see it in his eyes—even if Taylor himself did not. It looked as if he would have to watch out for the foolish human, or he would get _both _of them into trouble. "It will heal, with blood," he quietly said, his first words to his new keeper. Then he had to fight to hold back a grin as the man jerked back in shock, _finally_ realizing where his hand was, the danger he had placed himself in. Slowly the human's heart rate slowed back to normal once more, and the man sighed.

"Right. Blood. So, Rex, here's your dinner… or breakfast, or whatever." Taylor offered the bag of warm whole blood, forcing himself to hold still as Rex's fangs visibly dropped, and he moved to bite into the plastic bag. But the vamp moved slowly, as if not to frighten him further; maybe they could manage to make this work after all.

Taylor tried not to listen as the vampire literally sucked down his meal; it really was disgusting-sounding. He shook his head, admitting to himself that it was just the thought of _blood_ being drunk that was so gross; it really didn't sound any worse than a kid sucking down a cherry slush, or a Slurpee. It was just something he'd have to get over—Casey had been pretty gross, too, when she'd used to crack bones to get at the marrow.

All too soon that bag was empty, in Taylor's estimation. "That can't be all," he protested when Miller didn't pull out a second unit. "Casey got more than that—hell, _we_ eat more."

"Sorry," Graham said with a sigh. "He'll get another tonight, after we eat. The _scientists_ say that's all he needs."

"You know what? I'm really starting to hate those guys, and I've never even met any of 'em," Taylor grumbled, reaching out without thought to run a hand over Rex's cool shoulders again. "What about a shower or bath for him? Or are they gonna say that he's supposed to live… un-live?... in filth? His hands are clean; _I'd_ say that he's used to caring for himself."

"Ah, Taylor, you _do_ realize that that's _not_ your K-9 you're petting there, right?"

Miller and Taylor both snapped their heads around to face the cell door. It was Kim Young, one of the other new handlers, who'd come in on the transport with Taylor.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Taylor answered with a grin. "Not likely to mistake him; he's got a lot less hair than Casey did… and he won't get fleas." His hand never paused in its careful stroking as he spoke, until Rex turned his head and gently caught Taylor's hand between his human-mask's teeth. Young's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but Taylor calmly turned to look back at his vamp, who immediately let go once he had Taylor's attention. "Enough, huh? Okay—enough for now." And he drew his hand back before turning his attention to Young once more. "What's yours like, anyway?" he asked as he shifted his position to settle on the floor near Rex's head.

"Looks younger than yours," Young answered, stepping inside the cell, but coming no closer when he saw the vampire's eyes change to yellow again. "Black skin, brown eyes, black hair in a short buzz-cut. H382V."

"Yeah; what's his name?" Taylor pressed, continuing at Young's confused look, "They _do_ have names, you know. This is Rex, ID number H386V."

"Hell if I know," Young confessed offhandedly. "Maybe I'll call him Turtle, or Snapper. He's tried to bite me twice this morning already."

"Kim, they've already _got_ names; they come with 'em, same as you or me. Try asking him…"

"Hell no; I'm not taking that muzzle off him!" Young declared emphatically.

"You're gonna have to at some point," Taylor said with a chuckle. "He won't be able to fight or defend himself if you don't."

"Yeah, well, I'm not crazy like you!" Young snapped before turning and leaving the cell.

"Maybe I am," Taylor said to Miller with a sigh before shaking his head once more. "So, bath or shower for my vamp? And some clothes? I'm not about to keep staring at him buck-naked; he looks too much like one of us, and I _definitely_ don't swing that way."

"Don't know what they've got planned, though I doubt they'll have you run him naked once he's working," Miller commented thoughtfully. "And I don't think there are any shower facilities down here. I don't know of any, at least."

"Well, _that's_ piss-poor planning," Taylor groused, then leaned his head back against the wall.

"Don't do that," came the low-voiced hiss from the vampire beside Taylor.

"Don't do what?" Taylor asked, looking down, taken once more by surprise.

"Do _not_ show your throat like that around one of us; it is an offer to let yourself be bitten. And we cannot bite, so it is a tease." Rex stared up at him, his fangs partially dropped. He drew them back up again as Taylor watched.

"Oh. I didn't mean… sorry about that," he stammered out in apology, looking over at Miller in surprise.

"Huh. I didn't know that, either," Miller admitted. "Makes sense, though. Can't say I've ever relaxed enough around one of these guys to find out. Anyway, I don't know what to tell you about washing Rex, here, down."

"Think we could get him over to my quarters and back without anyone having a heart attack?" Taylor asked, trying to figure out the logistics.

"I will not fight you, if it means being clean again," Rex said before Miller could answer. "I would very much like to wash the piss off, before I begin to stink."

Taylor looked at Miller in shock, anger growing almost out of control. "That tears it! He's coming up to my quarters whether you help me or not! There any way I can keep him up there, so no one can get at him again?"

"Oh, yeah, the brass would _really_ love that," Miller snorted in reply. "Look, I'll help you get him cleaned up, but he's gonna have to come back down here afterwards. And you're gonna have to gag him again."

"The hell you say!" Taylor snapped back, forgetting that this was an officer he was talking to.

"That's an order, Sergeant," was Miller's curt response, freezing the other man in his tracks.

Taylor's face lost all expression. "Sir, yes, sir!" he answered, his eyes cold.

"Aw, hell, Rob, I didn't mean it like that," Miller sighed regretfully. "Just, you can't go too fast. You don't know Rex, or _any_ vamps, really. They don't play by our rules; no one really knows what rules, if any, they _do_ follow. Just be careful, okay?"

Taylor sighed once more. "Yeah, all right. I'm probably in 'way over my head here. It's just… what I said to Young is true: We're gonna have to leave those gags off eventually. If I can't trust him here, how can I trust him out in the field? And either I trust him, or I leave this program; I can't have it any other way, 'cause he'll never trust _me_ otherwise. He's gotta know, all the way down to his bones, that I'll do everything I can to protect him, Graham. That's how these things work, with _any_ working… creature. Dog, vamp, horse—doesn't matter what the species is; they _have_ to be able to trust their handlers. And _we_ have to give ourselves over totally to them. I think that's why they asked for K-9 handlers; we've already got the mindset and can teach the others, by example if nothing else."

"Maybe eventually," Miller began to argue back.

Rex tuned their conversation out. So, now he had some idea of what they planned for him and the others. They would not be kept in these cells until they dusted, but were to be used for fighting of some kind. Against what, was still a mystery, but Taylor, at least, meant only good by him. That did not mean that he would be happy with what the human wanted him to do, but at least he would know the man did not mean ill by it. He tuned back in to hear Taylor partially yield to the other man.

"Okay, fine, but I'm taking the gag off again, once we reach my quarters. I won't be able to wash his hair, otherwise." He suited action to words, picking the gag back up again, only to pause once more. "Graham, his mouth is all torn up by this thing," he offered as one last protest.

"And it's probably all healed up by now, since he's had blood, and it was human," Miller retorted. "Come on, quit stalling. I've got stuff I've got to get done today, still."

One last sigh, then Taylor held the mouthpiece out, wondering just how he was going to get this into Rex's mouth. It was anticlimactic when the vampire just quietly opened his mouth.

~oOo~

The chain around Rex's neck proved to be a heavy choke-collar, just tight enough that it could not be slipped off over his head. The last ring had clearly been welded shut after it had been put on. _Not safe! _a corner of Taylor's mind screamed. _What if he gets hung up on something?!_ But it was just one more thing out of his control.

Miller had showed him where the keys to the restraints were kept, in a compartment under the cell's keypad. He took one set, leaving the spare there in case of emergencies. All the chains could be lengthened, he saw, even if they were all shortened as far as possible right then. He lengthened the shackle chain enough that Rex could walk comfortably, but not run. The manacle-chain was okay, he decided as he checked it for free play through the ring on the waist-chain. He released the bonds holding the vamp's elbows pinned behind his back, which had been keeping his wrists tight against his belly.

Finally satisfied that he'd loosened the restraints enough for ease of movement, he turned to speak to Miller before releasing the wall-tether—that chain could easily double as a leash—only to stop in shock: Miller stood back, nearly in the cell's doorway, a Taser held firmly in his hands—aimed at Rex and him!

"What the…?!" Taylor gasped, forgetting what he'd been about to say.

"Are you totally insane, Taylor?" Miller grated out between clenched teeth. "You need _at least_ three men to move a vamp! And you _never_ give one that much slack!"

"Oh, for the love of… Graham, just how tightly restrained do you think he's gonna be on patrol? _He can't hurt us!_ And he gave his word that he wouldn't fight me today, so he could get cleaned up.

"You've got your Taser, so, no, I'm not totally insane. I'm a handler trying to see to the well-being of his 'beast,' so lighten up! He's never gonna be able to work if everyone goes apeshit every time he's given any leeway. And it's gotta start somewhere, sometime. Now is as good a time as any, since this is something that _he_ wants, too. So I'm taking him up to my quarters, where I will be giving him a shower, _and_ a pair of my sweat-pants, since he's an intelligent being and not a dumb animal. You can come if you want; you said you'd help. But _we,_ Rex an' me, we're going in any case." Resolutely he turned back and released the last lock holding Rex in the cell. Carefully he grasped the vampire by one arm to help him up to his feet. Rex wavered a bit—it had been days since he'd been up off the floor or been able to move even an inch in any direction—but he quickly steadied, then stood quietly at his handler's side, looking at the man in the cell's doorway.

Rex could smell the nervousness coming from Taylor; that was to be expected. The blatant fear pouring from Graham, though, was a surprise. That human had never shown anything like that degree of fear, as long as he, Rex, had been securely chained to the wall. _**That**_ _was interesting_, the vampire thought as he waited to see what would happen next. Unfortunately, he knew that Taylor was correct: he could not hurt them, as things now stood. So what past experience had the other man had, to make him so fearful of a mostly-unrestrained vampire?

The moment couldn't last. Finally, Taylor gave a snort of disgust and guided his vamp out of the cell, Miller stepping aside at the last moment.

Followed by a grim-faced Miller, Rex carefully kept the leash slack, quietly seething as he walked tamely at Taylor's side. He was a Master Vampire, dammit, not some tame animal trained to do tricks. Just who did these humans think they were? Taylor, he grudgingly admitted, thought that he was responsible for caring for Rex and clearly meant to do the best he could. Once he got free again, Rex decided, he would keep that human and make a Pet of him. As for the rest… Rex's eyes flashed yellow briefly before he pushed his demon down again. Maybe there would be one or two he _wouldn't_ kill, if his Pet-to-be begged prettily enough for their lives. It was something to consider.

They walked through seemingly endless corridors. Rex was surprised that they met no one and couldn't help wondering where everyone was. At last Taylor stopped in front of a door, keying it open with a swipe of another of those plastic cards. He led the way into a good-sized room that had a metal-framed bed pushed nearly against the far wall. Two doors led off to one side; Taylor headed through the nearer one. This, it was apparent, was the bath; it had a sink, a toilet, and a glass-fronted shower. He entered, drawing Rex in after him; Miller stopped in the doorway.

That was where Taylor realized that he had a slight problem. While he was sure that the vampire could figure out how to operate the shower, if he didn't already know, even Taylor agreed that it was 'way too soon to release his hands from the manacles. Rex would not be able to wash himself, confined that way, though, meaning that Taylor would have to do it for him. Which, in turn, meant that he, Taylor, would have to strip down also. _Shit!_

Sighing, he dropped Rex's lead with a quiet, "Wait here a minute, would you?" and stepped out past Miller once more. When he returned moments later, he was carrying spare towels and was wearing only a pair of boxers.

"What do you think you're doing?" Miller gasped in shock at the sight of the nearly naked Taylor.

"I'm giving my vamp a shower," Taylor replied as nonchalantly as he could manage. "I'm not about to get my uniform soaked; what's the problem?" And then he was heading past Miller and removing that gag…

Yes, Rex decided, he was definitely going to keep Taylor as a Pet once he'd escaped. While the man wasn't spectacular—that mousy brown hair was very plain—his eyes softened very nicely when he looked at his future Master. Broad shoulders and narrow hips, lean muscles… only slightly shorter than Rex, now that he'd removed his boots… Oh, yes, he would definitely be keeping this one. He grinned to himself as the human guided him into the shower stall, pushing him into the far corner as he closed the glass door and turned on the water.

"You like the water hot or cool, Rex?" Taylor asked, glancing over at his vamp in the corner.

Rex actually grinned as he answered, "As hot as you can stand it." If it weren't for the chains Rex wore, he could almost mistake Taylor for a minion, or one of his Childer, the human seemed so concerned for his preferences. It really was amusing. The water grew hotter, and Rex could feel the grime sliding off his skin and hair as he stepped fully under the spray.

"Keep your eyes closed, now," Taylor cautioned. "I don't want you getting this soap in your eyes." Then the human was rubbing some spicy-herbal-smelling stuff into his hair and working it through the longish strands. It was all Rex could do to keep from purring when the human started to massage his scalp. He could still smell the stuff, even after it had been rinsed out. Now he smelled a lot like his human, he thought with a shudder; it was Taylor's own shampoo he'd used on Rex.

The body wash smelled similar, and Rex found himself leaning into the human's touch as he was washed down. Those hands were strong and felt good on his skin. The hot water was heavenly, too. But all too soon, Taylor was shutting the water off and reaching outside the glass door for a towel.

Taylor couldn't believe how cooperative the vampire had been. He'd expected some sort of protest when he'd reached his genitals, although he'd tried to keep his touch impersonal. As he'd said before, guys did nothing for him… But Rex had stood there quietly—hell, _Casey_ had put up more of a fuss at bath-time. Not wanting to push his luck, he finished up as quickly as possible, cutting off the water and stepping out to towel himself off first. Then he urged Rex out, rubbing him down with dry towels, leaving his hair—he'd been right; it was strawberry blonde— for last.

As he rubbed, he glanced out the door at Miller. The other man stood well back and to the side of the bathroom, his Taser never wavering from the doorway.

"Hey, Graham?" Taylor called, catching the other soldier's eye. "There's an extra blanket in my closet; could you open it out and put it down on the floor by the foot of my bed?"

Miller frowned, but backed away towards the closet. He fumbled the door open, then reached inside, searching for the blanket. Taylor watched him, missing the way Rex tensed at the thought of being relegated to the floor like some Pet… Then the vampire relaxed as he considered whether he truly wished to be in Taylor's bed as the submissive one. No; the floor was a better idea, no question about it.

He had been settled down on the blanket, his lead chain locked to the bed frame, and Taylor was mostly dressed, when the base alarm went off.

"What's up?" Taylor asked as he tightened his belt.

Miller started to shake his head, then froze. "Oh, shit!" he breathed, then strode over and hit the comm unit beside the door. "This is Captain Miller; what is the nature of the emergency? I repeat, what is the emergency? Over."

"Captain Miller, we have a vamp loose on the base somewhere," a young, nervous voice responded immediately.

"Would that be Hostile 386V?"

"Uh, yessir; how did you know?"

"Call off the alert; the vamp's not missing," Miller curtly ordered. "We've got him over in Sergeant Taylor's quarters. We'll be bringing him…"

"This is Major Greene," the officer's voice sharply overrode Miller's. "Hold your position," he snapped; then there was the click of the circuit being cut.

Taylor looked over at Graham. "Oh, _mega_ shit!" he moaned, plopping down on his bed. He reached over and pulled Rex to him, so that the vampire rested against his legs.

Rex stiffened and growled slightly, but yielded to his handler's pull.

"Look, Rex," Taylor said urgently, "I know this goes against your nature, but d'ya think you can play tame little vamp for a while? We'll _all_ be up shit creek otherwise. I'm gonna try my best to talk us out of this, but you're gonna have to help some, too. Whatever you do, _please_ don't growl or snap at the major. 'Kay?" Taylor was practically pleading now as he looked down at his charge.

"I will… try," Rex finally muttered, but there was no time to say anything else as Taylor's door slammed open.

"Geez, that's no way to enter a room with a half-trained animal inside!" Taylor snarled as he sprang up off of the bed, covering the vampire's own snarl of alarm. "You _trying_ to make him attack?" He'd quickly moved to put himself between the charging security detail and the chained vampire, using his own body as a shield.

"Stand away from the hostile!" the soldier in charge of the detail ordered, his voice harsh with fear.

"Oh, _hell,_ no, I won't," Taylor snapped back. "My vamp is restrained and in control; you're sure as _hell_ not gonna Tase him for nothing!"

And then Major Greene strode into the room, taking in the chained vamp sitting on the floor, his handler standing between him and the security detail, Captain Miller with a ready Taser of his own. "Stand down your detail, Wize," he said in a tight voice. "And you, Taylor, what the hell do you think you're doing, moving a dangerous hostile around this base—unrestrained?" he added as he noted the looseness of the vampire's chains.

"Sir, I was seeing to the care and well-being of my _Hunter,"_ Taylor responded, stressing his choice of title for his vampire. "He needed to be bathed, sir; someone thought it appropriate, sometime last night after he'd been fed, to abuse him and piss on him. I was not about to leave him in that condition; besides being uncalled for, it was highly unsanitary. Not to mention disgusting—sir," he finished with a mutinous glare at the major, who just looked back thoughtfully.

"So you just decided to take him for a little walkabout, did you, Sergeant? You stop to consider that he might overpower you, despite his chip?"

"Yessir, I thought about that. That's why Captain Miller was along, sir; he had his Taser ready at all times as backup." Taylor moved back one step and shifted to the side so that Rex was sitting next to his leg. A moment later, he felt the cool weight as the vamp leaned lightly against him. Taylor took a deep breath and tried for a more respectful tone. "Sir, honestly, I couldn't leave him like that, and Captain Miller said that he wasn't aware of any wash facilities down closer to his kennel. This was the only thing I could think of, sir."

"Did you take him by Medical first?" Major Greene asked, calming a little himself.

"Nossir; I didn't want him out in the hallways any longer than necessary, and he didn't indicate any injuries that needed such extensive care." Taylor had felt Rex tense against his leg at the mention of Medical—_so_, he mused, _someplace to avoid if possible._ _I wonder why?_

"You said someone pissed on your vamp?"

"Yessir; the smell was starting to be noticeable by the time I got him into the shower, sir," Taylor confirmed.

"Medical could have sampled it, maybe determined just who had done it; did you consider that?"

"No, sir, I hadn't thought of that," Taylor confessed, but then his face hardened. "And, sir, even if I had thought of it, I probably wouldn't have tried to bring him there. I haven't noticed a whole lot of concern over the treatment these vamps are given by too many people here. Sir."

"You are out of line, Sergeant," the Major snapped, anger rising in him once more. But his gaze fell to the growling vamp, who glared up at him with yellow eyes at the sound of his antagonism. The vamp hadn't moved a muscle, but it took no stretch of the imagination to see that he wanted to defend his handler in the way a vamp knew best.

Before he could say anything, though, Taylor put a hand on the vampire's head. "That'll do, Rex. Stand down," he ordered in a quiet, yet firm, voice. The eyes stayed yellow, but the growl died away.

Taylor looked over at the major and sighed. "Sir, I really am sorry for the confusion. Rex—that's H386V, sir—he was never in any danger of escaping. Truth be told, sir, we all _need_ some bonding time with the vamps, if they're to be effective hunters. Any dog-handler will tell you the same thing, sir; they have to know you'll take care of them. And vamps, being human-level intelligent… Sir, it's even more important. What would be best would be to have some way to keep 'em close. If nothing else, that would protect them from the sadists that don't approve of this…"

"Are you finished, Sergeant?" Major Greene cut him off. "This is the Army, boy, not some dog-training project for the Boy Scouts. That is a dangerous animal. You will return him to his cell, and he will stay there except for approved, _supervised_ training sessions. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Taylor snapped to attention to respond, his face a blank mask. Okay; if he had to leave Rex down in that cell, he'd sleep down there himself, too. No way was he leaving his vamp unprotected after last night; no way in hell.

And Rex wisely kept his mouth shut, leaving Taylor to fight this battle for him. His Pet had spunk, he'd give him that.

**Notes**

(1) _Biker Mice From Mars, 1993 version._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Taylor spread a sleeping bag on the floor with a sigh. Yeah, he probably was being an idiot, but…

This would be his fourth night spent down in Rex's cell. So far there hadn't been a peep out of anyone, just the sounds of restless vamps in the cells to either side. The three or four other handlers who'd learned of his "obsession" told him that he was just being crazy about this. Oddly, Miller seemed to be unexpectedly supportive, going so far as to lend him a team field-comm, in case anything did happen. Taylor had to wonder just what Miller was worried _would_ happen.

He sighed and glanced over at his vampire. Rex now wore his extra gray sweatpants and slept in much looser chains. No gag, either, which absolutely freaked Major Greene out. And Rex now had a pad to sleep on, that being the best that Taylor could do. Greene was obdurate in his refusal to allow the vampire to spend the night in Taylor's quarters; he'd barely allowed Taylor to bring him back down to the cells himself after that shower debacle. Still, the vamp had caused no problems for Taylor despite the eased restraints. Taylor was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"'Night, Rex," he muttered as he stretched out on his own pad with a swallowed groan. He paid for his concern every morning with stiff muscles during PT. It was worth it, though, simply for his own peace of mind.

Rex said nothing, just looking over at the stubborn human with a small twitch of his lips. He hated having to rely on anyone else for his safety, let alone a human. He'd not had to do that since he was a fledge. Now he was as helpless as a human child… He barely stifled a growl at the thought. It would help nothing, after all, and the human would most likely misunderstand its cause. Actually, upon further consideration, the situation was amusing. Here his handler was, sleeping on the floor just like his charge, instead of in a nice, warm bed. Truly, he would be a wonderful Pet. He listened, lying quietly as Taylor drifted off to his well-earned sleep.

~oOo~

Taylor had kept as much space between them as he could, but the cell wasn't all that large. He came awake as Rex nudged his leg with a foot, but lay quietly, making no sound. He'd come awake like this too many times in Iraq, awakened by Casey's nearly soundless growling at nearby threats. The nudging stopped as Rex registered the difference in his breathing and heart rate, but the vampire remained silent.

Also silent, Taylor lay still, listening, until he heard heavy breathing, muffled curses, and a swallowed yelp of pain further down the white-tiled corridor. Choking back a curse of his own, Taylor keyed the field-comm, ducking under his sleeping bag and keeping his voice as low as possible. "Miller… Miller, you there?" he called as he settled the earbud more firmly in place.

It was a few moments before he got a response; then, "Taylor, that you?"

"Yeah. Listen, Graham, send the MPs down here. There's someone in with one of the vamps, an' it don't sound good at all," Taylor replied quickly.

"Right. You stay there with Rex; I'll send someone down," Miller responded; then there was a click as the connection was cut.

Quietly Taylor sat up and ran a hand over his vamp's leg in reassurance—at least, that was what he meant by the gesture. Surprisingly, Rex did not pull away, so maybe he'd understood his intent. He'd called for help; now all he could do was wait.

Much sooner than he'd expected, MPs flooded down the corridor. Taylor rose and went to the open cell doorway and nearly landed himself in a boatload of trouble by doing so. The two creeps who were dragged out of a cell several places before Rex's had been so intent on their "pleasure" that they never heard anyone coming, and so were caught in the act. But Taylor…

"Freeze; hands where I can see them," an MP snapped in a no-nonsense voice as he saw Taylor in the doorway.

"No problem," Taylor said as he complied. It would be easier to explain if he wasn't unconscious. "Glad you got here so quick."

"Come out of there; hands against the far wall," the MP ordered as his partner approached with a pair of handcuffs.

"Hey, hold on," Taylor protested even as he moved as ordered. "I'm the one who called you guys—actually, I called Miller so _he_ could call you for me." He didn't resist as his hands were pulled behind his back, but the MPs froze at the sudden growl that sounded behind them.

"Leave him alone," Rex snarled when they turned to look.

"No! _Hold your fire!"_ Taylor called in near-panic as one of the MPs leveled his gun at the vamp. "Bullets won't do anything but make him cranky."

"What the hell were you doing in there?" the partner demanded even as he carefully watched the irate vampire.

"Someone assaulted Rex almost a week ago," Taylor explained in a low voice. "I've been sleeping down here since then, in case they came back for seconds. And let me tell you, even with a pad, that floor is damned hard."

"And that?" the MP asked, gesturing towards the still yellow-eyed Rex.

"I'm his handler," Taylor said with a shrug. "Vamps can be… protective, a lot like a trained K-9—but one helluva lot more intelligent. He's mine, which makes me his." He looked over as Miller came running down the corridor.

"You okay, Taylor?" Graham asked as he cast a worried look at the MPs.

"Yeah, or I will be once we get this straightened out. Anyone call the Major yet?" Taylor answered with a grin. "I don't think he really believed me when I told him about Rex, the last time."

"Well, he'll believe you now," Graham answered, his voice serious. "Take those cuffs off; he's the one who called the alert."

"Yessir," the first MP responded, clearly unhappy as he removed the handcuffs. But at least _this_ guy wasn't doing anything but sleeping here, unlike the other two. _Perverts,_ he thought in disgust as he headed back up the corridor with his partner. They passed an angry and very upset Major Greene at the end of the long hallway, but he paid them no attention.

Taylor and Miller headed down to meet him at the victim's cell.

"'Morning, Major," Taylor struggled to keep the _I told you so_ out of his voice as he greeted his superior.

"Your vamp all right, Sergeant Taylor?" Major Greene asked.

"Yessir; he woke me when he heard this going on," Taylor replied, waving one hand at the bruised and bloody vampire confined in that cell. The vamp was in full gameface, although he was clearly hurting himself with his struggles.

"Woke you…?"

"Ummm… Yessir; I've been sleeping down here, sir. Just in case," Taylor explained somewhat uneasily.

"Damned good thing, too, I'd say," Greene grumbled in grudging acknowledgement. "These the same ones that assaulted him?"

"Don't know, sir; he hasn't said, yet," Taylor replied, but he was only half-listening. "Sir, who's this vamp's handler? He should be down here to care for him."

"See what you can do, Taylor," Greene ordered, but Taylor shook his head.

"Not a good idea, sir," he said quietly. "I've been doing some reading online, between and after our lectures. Rex will get upset if I smell too strongly of another vamp. They missed that in our briefing packets, sir." It was the closest that Taylor could come to saying that whoever had made up those packets didn't know what they were talking about. Beside him, Miller grinned.

"They left out quite a bit, sir," Miller offered in a quiet voice. "I had some experience with vamps… several years ago. Caged experiments do _not_ give a true picture of vamp psychology, sir. Vamps are natural predators and very possessive. I could handle this one, but only because I don't have a vamp of my own. Taylor can't."

"What source did you have, Sergeant?" Greene asked, very unwillingly. He hated the idea of using some outside, undocumented source; still, this could be something the others needed to know…

"I found an old website that had a bunch of supposed Demonology texts scanned in. Most of 'em I couldn't read; they were in Latin and other languages I couldn't begin to guess at, and some of the illustrations were really creepy. But some seemed to be a bunch of old journals an' stuff."

"You found some old Watchers' diaries online?!" Miller cut him off in excitement.

"Maybe," Taylor shrugged, then laughed. "A lot read like an old-fashioned horror novel; I have no idea how much could possibly be true. But I found Rex mentioned in several, so at least some of it can be corroborated."

"That's not important," Greene brushed it off. "He's a chipped… _Hunter… _now, whatever he was in the past. You'll show me this site later today. And I don't want you sleeping down here anymore."

"Sir, I _will_ protect my vamp," Taylor said in a carefully controlled voice. "There could easily be others of a like mind if these _were_ the same ones who molested Rex. He's helpless against them. He's my responsibility now; even if the other guys don't care, I _do."_

Grim-faced, Major Greene stalked down to H386V's cell. The vamp was sitting up on a sleeping pad—not issued to him, so that was clearly Taylor's doing—that lay beside a sleeping bag on a second pad. Yellow eyes glared at him, although the vampire was otherwise still in his human mask.

"That who attacked you?" Greene demanded, his voice hard.

"No," Rex answered shortly, although he kept his voice soft. "My attacker smelled of chemicals and medicine. I will know him again, though. Is Corey all right?" he added, finally allowing the yellow to bleed out of his eyes.

Rex shifted his gaze to Taylor. "You can tend to him if you wish; his handler is too afraid of him to do much good right now. But you would be safer if I were there with you; he is very distressed, because they were not family and thus had no right to him."

"I don't know, Rex," Taylor said with a sigh. "I'll take a look at him if you'll be okay."

"There will be no problem for me over this," the vampire assured his human, then turned his attention back to the major. "He is smart to have… warned me before approaching another. It is hard to change the way we view such things. It is much like approaching a strange dog: they smell everything about you before they decide if you can touch them safely. Corey will allow his touch, because he does not smell of lust or anger, or great fear. _And_ because he heard me say that Taylor is allowed. It is a matter of rank, and privilege—a vampire thing," he added as Greene's face started to redden in anger. Rex only shrugged. "You gave him to me; I have found him acceptable. You should be glad that it is so; he will be the safer for it."

"Ah, sir, it might be a good idea to let everything settle down a bit down here," Miller interrupted before Greene could explode. "In my experience, vamps don't see the world _anything_ like we do. They'll also say things just to wind up us poor humans. Don't know if that's the case here, but it's not worth getting upset over." Carefully he eased the major out of Rex's cell and back up the corridor. "I'll see if Taylor needs a hand with that other vamp. Can I get an issue of blood for him, sir? He'll need it, to heal if he's hurt badly."

Greene visibly got a grip on his temper. "That's most likely a good idea, Captain. See to it." And then he left them to it as he turned and strode out of the corridor of vampire cells.

"Damn, boy," Miller muttered under his breath at Taylor. "I don't know who's worse: you or your vamp."

~oOo~

After the shower incident, all the handlers had been shown where the "washroom" was, near the far end of the vampire wing. Taylor headed there now to fetch supplies, although he thought the room itself was more than a little barbaric. Seriously, chains dangling from the ceiling, controlled by a winch and positioned over a drain in the floor, and a long hose with an adjustable spray nozzle? That sounded more like something the Nazis might have used. No, Rex would still be going back to Taylor's quarters for his showers, although Taylor would be sure to tell someone first, before removing the vampire from his cell.

With a self-deprecating grin, Taylor grabbed a stainless-steel bucket and several clean cloths, along with a small bottle of liquid hand soap he saw next to the sink. _Now,_ he thought as he looked around the room, _towels… Ah!_ He found a small stack of large towels in one of the cabinets lining one wall and grabbed several, then turned back to the sink. Filling the bucket with hot water, he mentally prepped himself to deal with Someone Else's vamp. On his way out the door, a mostly used pad of Post-It Notes caught his eye, and he grinned again. He wrote "Corey" on the top sheet with an old marker, pulled it off, and left with his gathered supplies.

Back at H381V's cell, he stuck the Post-It just below the official designator plate and frowned. Only two small yellow squares marred the whiteness of the corridor: here and at Rex's cell. He strongly suspected that none of the other handlers had bothered to learn their vamps' names—_stupid of them,_ he thought before sighing and heading towards the tense, wary vampire chained next to the far wall.

"Hey, there, Corey," Taylor said quietly as he set his supplies down out of range of a chance kick. "My name's Taylor; I'm just gonna clean you up some. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?"

Yellow eyes glared suspiciously back at him, then the vamp's nostrils flared once, twice. Suddenly the human mask was in place, and Taylor found himself looking into a pair of stormy gray eyes. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to brush the tangled long brown hair out of the young vamp's face. This one had been turned in his late teens or early twenties, Taylor thought absently as he gently stroked over the vamp's head and down to his shoulders. Gradually the young vampire relaxed a bit, although he was clearly still suspicious. With an encouraging smile, Taylor reached for his supplies and began washing the blood and… stuff_—_he wasn't going to think about _that_ too hard—off this latest victim of sadistic abuse.

~oOo~

Corey glared at the human who entered his prison. _What now?_ he wondered, angry at the effrontery of these puny humans, who dared to take what was not theirs. _This_ human approached slowly, though, as one might an unknown, wounded animal. His body language did not signal threat or fear, just caution. He scented the air, and felt shock.

His sire! This human clearly carried his sire's scent, and Corey let his human mask show. This encouraged the man, who carefully reached out to touch him. The touch was gentle, light but not tickling—soothing, actually. Slowly he relaxed, and the human began to serve him, washing the accumulated filth from his body. This, too, was reassuring, for he had heard his sire order the man to see to his needs.

The human was obedient, and diligent in his work. And his sire had said that the human was smart… He thought over what he'd heard and realized that, even here among their enemies, his sire had claimed a Pet. So, this human was not to be bitten; he was to be looked after, protected if possible…

His musings were cut off as another human appeared in his doorway. He vamped out again, hissing a warning at this intruder in defense of his sire's Pet, and flinched at the pain that ran through his head at that sign of aggression.

"Hey, easy there," Taylor soothed once more as the young vampire under his hands showed his gameface suddenly, and just as suddenly collapsed from pain. "No need for that; no one's gonna hurt you. I won't let them." He rubbed circles over the vamp's back and shoulders the way that Rex seemed to like, until he felt the muscles relax once more. Only then did he turn to see what had set… Corey… off this time.

"He okay?" Miller asked before Taylor could say anything. "I didn't mean to make him hurt himself. Brought a bag of blood; thought he might have damage that needed to be healed."

"Yeah; thanks," Taylor said, keeping one hand on his patient. "There's a lot of deep bruising, and some tearing where those bastards raped him. I don't think there're any broken bones. Now that you're here, I can take his gag off and ask him. It doesn't look like anyone's taken it off since he's been here."

"Just be careful, okay? He's not Rex, remember," Miller cautioned, placing one hand on the butt of his Taser, but not drawing it. He set down the small insulated bag he'd brought in with him, then stepped back to just outside the cell's doorway.

"Yeah, yeah; not Rex—got it," Taylor muttered as he undid the now-familiar catches on the gag's retaining straps. He pulled back as Corey practically spat the thing out of his mouth, but this vamp made no attempt to bite him either. "What, I'm not bitable, or something?" he joked, watching the vamp closely.

"No," Corey answered seriously, watching Miller warily, but accepting Taylor's attention. "You belong to… Rex," he carefully explained, not letting on to their relationship. "I will not go against _him."_

One more set of footsteps sounding in the corridor, drawing closer, distracted Taylor from questioning that statement.

Corey sneered as he caught the fear-laden scent of his handler. The small beads of sweat at the human's hairline would have given him away, even if his scent had not.

"Oh, hey, Miller, Taylor," the newcomer said, trying to hide his uneasiness. "I heard that 381V got hurt, or something. He gonna be okay?" And then he saw the gag off, and the gameface that slipped back into place with a loud crunch of facial bones. _"Shit!"_ he yelped, quickly moving backward several steps.

"Cooper, get a grip!" Taylor snapped, although he kept his voice low and calm. "What part of _he can't hurt you_ did you not understand from the briefings and lectures? You're making him hurt himself with your attitude—he can smell your fear, man. Hell, _I_ can smell you, from here."

Taylor's hand never stopped its gentle motion, and Miller had to admire the man's chutzpah, petting a vamp in gameface—an _unmuzzled_ vamp, at that. But Taylor turned away from the door to set a hand under Corey's chin, tilting the head so he could check his face. "Go back to your human mask, Corey," Taylor said, keeping his voice level. After a slight tilt of the head—as if he were listening to something, Taylor thought idly—Corey obeyed with another crunch of bone and a slight shake of his head.

Reaching for a moist cloth, Taylor carefully washed the accumulated blood and scabs from the corners of the vampire's mouth. He spoke without looking away from his task. "Cooper, you're a moron. You're negligent almost to the point of abuse in the care of your charge. As scrawny as he is, I'd almost be willing to bet that you aren't even feeding Corey, here, all of his blood—and _that's_ what makes you a moron," he added, looking away from the vamp only long enough to snag the bag Miller had brought and drag it over to his side.

He pulled out the bag of blood from within and held it up for the young vampire to see. "Bite it, but careful, or you'll split the bag and waste it," he cautioned as he moved it into range of Corey's fangs.

Cooper, safely out in the hallway, gasped as Corey dropped his fangs and obeyed with a slow, careful strike and began to suck the blood down greedily.

Taylor looked back around at the sound from the corridor. "A starved or hungry vamp is a dangerous vamp, Cooper," he continued. "Get one hungry enough, and he might be tempted to risk being zapped by his chip. A desperate creature does _not_ react normally." He looked back down as he felt the vampire ease away from the now-empty bag. "Sorry there's not more, Corey; you'll have to wait for your morning feeding for that." He shifted his gaze back to the other handler. "Cooper, maybe you might want to transfer to other duty. You clearly don't handle being around these guys well. Frank Patterson doesn't have a vamp assigned yet; ask the Major to give Corey to him. If you don't, I will."

The other handler started to snap back a retort, stung by Taylor's words, but a low growl from the chained vampire changed his mind. Ignominious retreat was much the better option, he decided, so he left as suggested.

With a disgusted sigh, Taylor threw a dry towel over Corey as a cover, then gathered up his supplies and left the young vampire to ponder his actions in unmuzzled bliss.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Taylor swallowed another yawn as he set his tray down on his usual table. He looked at his breakfast unhappily, not for the first time, and dug in. There were new cooks in the kitchen, apparently, and for the past two days the food, breakfast especially, had been awful. The eggs were runny, the bacon and sausage were either half-cooked or burned, and no one could tell if the hot cereal was supposed to be oatmeal, grits, or farina. The only thing still even halfway decent was the coffee, he thought as he swallowed a mouthful, then grimaced as he realized that it was cold.

"Oh, that looks good," a voice remarked dryly, then asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Taylor looked up with a grin. "Sure, come join the leper colony, Frank," he said, pushing out the chair across from him with one foot.

"Yeah; I noticed the others gave you a wide berth, especially at breakfast," the tall, slender black man said as he set his tray down and folded himself into the offered chair. "What's with that?"

"By lunch they manage to decide that I haven't turned myself into vamp-chow, so they'll associate with me for one more day," Taylor snorted in disgust.

"So, I understand that I got you to thank for getting a vamp this round after all," Patterson said after forcing down some of his unappetizing mess. "Any suggestions?"

"Oh, yeah, got a lot of those," Taylor said, giving up on his own breakfast and settling for the cold coffee. "You really want 'em? No one else did—said I was crazy, and obsessive, and a bleeding heart, and other crap like that."

"Nah; you're just a dog-handler with a brain, I think," Frank said with a sigh. "Look, I know somethin' about dogs; my dad has a kennel and I used to help him, growing up. He raises some really good Newfoundlands, trains them for show _and _field trials. I figure we're gonna be doing something like field work with these vamps; am I right?"

Taylor looked up, interested now. "Yeah, and you're the first guy I've met here to even sound like he's got a clue. I thought they were looking for dog handlers for this; I guess no one else with experience was interested. I'll introduce you to some vamps once you give up on that," he nodded his head towards the tray that Patterson was still working on. "Who'd you get? 381V?"

"Yeah," the taller man confirmed, then paused. "I heard he was assaulted in his cell last night. Is he gonna be up for anything today? The major said we're supposed to start actually working with them after they're fed this morning."

"Yeah, he'll be okay; Miller got a unit of blood for him, and I fed it to him once the MPs left, since his original handler was a useless waste of space." Now Taylor looked like he'd bitten into a lemon.

"What?" Patterson wanted to know.

"Oh, just several things." Taylor huffed out a short laugh. "This just goes to show the high intelligence of the Powers That Be around here. Of _course_ you start a training program for manners and courtesies that will be repugnant, _right_ when the trainees' natural cycles say they should be sleeping. That goes right along with treating them like dumb animals. Assholes." He shook his head in disgust, then looked Patterson in the eye. "Frank, they're as intelligent as you or I, especially once they get some age on them. I don't know how old they have to be to get that way; the outside information sources I found had conflicting accounts. I _do_ know that your vamp was reasonable last night, even after being assaulted."

"Well, that sounds good, anyway," Patterson said, trying to see the bright side. "And I'm well aware that, after an incident like that, it'll be a while before he can even start to trust me."

"And that, my friend, is the problem," Taylor sighed as he pushed his tray to one side. "Trust-building is not on anyone's agenda around here. Our superiors… Look, you've been to all the lectures with us, right?"

Patterson nodded slowly, but kept his questions to himself for now. _How did they think they could work with these creatures otherwise?_

"Okay," Taylor continued with another disgusted sigh. "They seem to think that we can force compliance from the vamps with those control chips they've stuck in their brains. If the vamps try to attack us, they get zapped. It really packs a punch, too; incapacitates 'em. _That'd_ go down great if we're attacked by something big an' mean, and our Hunter puts himself down with a naughty fantasy of bloody revenge, because he's been mistreated by us beforehand."

Patterson leaned back in his chair with pursed lips as he considered the implications. "Oh, boy," he breathed. "That's definitely not good. And the rest of the guys are buying that bullshit?"

"Yeah; I can't seem to get through to them. After all, I'm just the crazy California Guy, and everyone _knows_ that we're all bleeding-heart nutcases, right?"

"Nah; you just see beyond the party line," Miller said as he set down his own cup of coffee and joined them. "I'm Graham Miller," he added, offering his hand to Taylor's companion.

"Frank Patterson," Frank said as he shook the other's hand. "You're one of the SpecOps guys…"

"I've been Taylor's backup while he worked with Rex," he corrected with a grin. "I'll be looking over your shoulder today while you meet-n-greet Corey."

"That's 381V's name, Frank," Taylor explained with another frown. "I think Gra and I are the only ones among us humans who know his name; no one else even seems to give a damn _what_ they call themselves."

"What, they think they're machines or something?" Patterson asked incredulously.

"No; they think they're soulless demons, therefore human courtesies are irrelevant," Taylor sighed as he rose from his seat. "But that doesn't mean they don't have feelings; they're just wired different from us, mentally.

"You done? I'll show you where to get their blood and introduce you. I'll have to," Taylor chuckled with a sudden thought. "Corey may have decided not to try to bite _me_ for some reason, but _you_ don't have that assurance. And I left his gag off last night…"

~oOo~

As usual, there was no line down in Medical; most of the guys seemed to put off getting blood for their vampires as long as possible. Yeah, it was gross, but still, the vamps had to eat. At least they didn't have to hold down something still alive for them, Taylor thought with a shudder. He almost cursed when he saw the tech on duty this morning, for the man was notoriously stingy with the blood.

"Okay," Taylor said, stepping forward with determination. "We need larger bags this morning, 'cause the vamps aren't just sitting around today," he demanded before the man could start his routine complaints. "And 381V needs a bag of human so's he can finish healing and replace the weight he's lost. His former handler wasn't feeding him all he should have." Then he stood, looking at the man with challenge in his eyes, waiting for the verbal sparring match to start.

"Give it to him, Lacey," a voice called out from the next room before the man could start whining about the cost, or about spoiling the "monsters." "Major Greene sent down orders for that one. And make sure you give out full measures for all the rest. It's not as if _you're_ paying for it, and we don't want the stuff going bad before they get it."

"Yessir," Lacey grumbled, then turned away with a sullen scowl to fill one blood bag from a dispenser, and then retrieve another prefilled one from a large cooler. He slapped stickers on both bags, then placed them in a nearby microwave to heat them up to body temperature. Each unit then went into its own small insulated carrier, which Lacey practically threw at Taylor before stomping away for one of the back rooms.

Taylor sighed as he handed the bag marked for 381V to Patterson. "Fortunately, the other techs don't have his attitude," he said as they turned to head over to the vampire holding cells. "There've been days that I was really, _really_ tempted to feed _him_ to Rex… but I was afraid it would make m'vamp sick or something," he finished with a shrug.

Both Patterson and Miller laughed, lightening the mood.

~oOo~

Rex heard the humans coming well before he could smell them. That was Taylor's voice; he recognized the second one as the soldier's—Graham's, that was. But the third voice was unknown, and he wondered about it, for visitors were discouraged down here. No strangers had been allowed near them since the day he'd been given Taylor—or to him, in their eyes. Had they actually replaced Corey's handler, as threatened? That would be a good thing, if it were so; he'd recently heard his Childe whining with hunger through the long days.

"'Morning, Rex," Taylor called out his usual greeting as the three men stopped at Rex's cell. He looked over at the newcomer. "Frank, this is 386V, name's Rex. I thought you should meet him first, since I seem to get along with him well. At least he doesn't try to bite me when I say something he finds stupid."

"You do not do that very often anymore," Rex commented with the faintest grin as he studied the stranger. This human just looked at him curiously, and did not reek of fear. He looked back at Taylor. "You mean to give this one to Corey?" he asked, looking back to watch the man's reaction. Surprise, that was, in the deep brown eyes.

"Told you they view the world differently, Frank," Taylor said with a chuckle, then turned serious. "Things'll be a lot easier if Corey accepts you.

"Rex, this is Patterson, and yes, he's gonna be Corey's handler now," he added, his voice calm as he moved further into the cell. "He's never been close to a vampire, so I thought he should see you first."

Rex let a touch of yellow light his eyes for a moment. "_I_ am not _your_ Pet, to be paraded around before whomever you please," he said, his voice low and almost a growl.

"No, you're not," Taylor said, ignoring his vamp's attitude as he dropped to the floor beside him and opened the insulated bag. "But it's better if he gets over his initial shock at a gameface before he sees Corey. So, full gameface this morning, please, not just fangs." Then he held the blood bag within Rex's reach and waited for the strike.

The vampire was hungry enough not to care, so he obeyed. Eyes yellowed, fangs fully dropped, forehead ridged with a crunch of facial bones. He glared at Taylor for a moment, then bit the bag, emptying it 'way too quickly. There was a slight scent of fear in the air now, some of it from Miller, who stood in the doorway as usual. This was familiar, but not as strong as it had been on previous occasions. There was a new tang now, though; that would be Patterson. Perhaps Taylor was right to do this, after all.

He looked at the new handler. "You—human—come over here," he said through his fangs, trying to keep his tone conversational. "I will not bite you this morning, since Taylor has brought you to me." He left off the _for approval_ part, since the new human, no doubt, did not understand about that yet. He had to give the man credit for courage, for he came into the cell without hesitation and dropped down to the floor beside Taylor.

Rex smiled at him, although that showed his fangs even more, which elicited a brief, additional spurt of fear-scent. Still, the man—Patterson—did not pull away. Instead he carefully studied Rex's demonic features before glancing over at Taylor.

"Don't know what the other guys were goin' on so much about," he drawled. "That… gameface?" He got a nod of confirmation. "His gameface isn't ugly; it's just different. And the yellow eyes are kinda cool. Does his face feel harder? It sorta looks like armor."

"Touch and feel for yourself, human," Rex offered, surprising even himself. He held still as the man obeyed, feeling along his forehead and cheekbones, then sat back and considered the vampire.

"Bones feel the same underneath; they just sit different," he said, analyzing what he had just felt. "The skin is actually soft-feeling still, not hard and reptilian like it looks. Thank you," he added politely to Rex, who nodded in regal acknowledgment. "Corey gonna snap at his blood bags like that?" Patterson then asked.

"He may strike even faster," Rex answered as he changed back to his human mask, his words becoming less sibilant. "He has been systematically starved, and we do not truly get enough to be sated on even a 'full' feeding here. Taylor knows this, but cannot do more than he already has. But you should go feed him, before the others come down and stir up everyone else."

"And we have just been politely dismissed to attend to other tasks," Taylor chuckled, placing one hand briefly on Rex's shoulder before rising. He got an actual grin from his vampire, then turned to herd Patterson from the cell.

~o~

Patterson was frowning by the time they reached Corey's cell. He'd looked in at the four vampires between Corey and Rex and had not liked what he'd seen. "Rob, how come those other vamps are all wearing gags? An' it don't seem like they can even move, chained up like that. That can't be right; what'd they do wrong?" he wanted to know, puzzled now.

Taylor gave him a disgusted look. "They're chained up like that because their handlers are afraid of 'em. The other guys can't seem to get it through their heads that those damned chips are supposed to stop our vampires from biting us. They just keep hearing all the warnings from the major and our trainers, then panic each other by talking it over, focusing on nothing else."

"But…" Patterson started to say, stopping at Taylor's grimace.

"I'm the bleeding-heart California liberal, remember?" Taylor sneered half under his breath as he saw Walters enter the corridor, insulated bag in hand. Louder, he said, "Come in and meet your vamp," then stepped into the cell. Patterson followed, again without hesitation.

"Okay, Corey," Taylor said as he settled down to one knee close to the confined vampire. "This is Patterson; he's gonna be your handler from now on. You might want to put him on your no-bite list too." He waited, giving the young vampire time to look over this new human. That, and… Yes, there was the expected flare of nostrils as he took in the man's scent. His eyes remained their stormy gray, which was a good sign, Taylor thought in relief. He hadn't been sure how Corey would react to a stranger, after last night.

"'Morning," Patterson said, stepping forward himself and crouching to put himself closer to the vamp's level. This one was chained tighter than Rex, he saw, but at least he had a towel over him for coverage. That was 'way more than the others he'd looked in at, and he suspected that Taylor had done that. "I've got some blood for you. Hungry?"

Corey looked at the human warily. His sire's Pet had brought him, so he might be acceptable. He could smell traces of his sire's scent on this one, although it was very faint, unlike Taylor. He was about to snap back a sarcastic retort—of _course_ he was hungry—but he made himself pause. Aside from Taylor, this was the first human even to attempt to speak politely to him. He had to remind himself that these were wild humans, who had never been properly trained to a Master Vampire's service. Keeping a careful grip on himself, Corey replied, "Yes, I'm hungry. You have blood for me; is it pig or cow today?"

Patterson smiled; he'd seen the effort it took for the vampire—Corey, he reminded himself—to frame a civil response. "I got something better for this morning, though I can't promise you the same later. It's supposed to be human; bag says so, anyway."

Interest lit the gray eyes as Corey watched him take out the warm bag of blood. Fangs dropping instinctively, he started to lunge for the bag, pulling himself up at the last minute as he recalled Taylor's cautionary comment when he'd brought his last bag of blood. No, he did _not_ want to waste this blood, for even with the chemical additives, it tasted _so_ much better than what little else he'd been given here. Too quickly it was gone, but the human had not pulled away in fear—although he had smelled of it somewhat—or to torment him. Carefully licking the blood from his lips and fangs, Corey grinned. "Yes, I think you shall be on a 'no-bite' list, as Taylor says—for now, at least."

Patterson just nodded without comment before turning to Taylor. "Who do I see to get one of those sleeping-pads issued for him?" he asked, thinking that it was odd that there wasn't one here yet.

"You'll have to get one next time you go to town," Taylor said unhappily. "I had some camping gear with my stuff—personal gear, I mean, not government issue. They don't seem to think the vamps need any sort of comfort down here. Hell, Rex is wearing a pair of _my_ sweatpants; they didn't even get any clothes issued to 'em. It's no wonder the bent guys have been coming down here to rape 'em; who'd think the higher-ups would give a damn?"

"And _that's_ why you've been sleeping down in Rex's cell, isn't it?" Patterson said with a slow nod. "Got it; I think I'll end up doing the same."

"Oh, you'll _really_ be in the leper colony then," Taylor laughed, joined by Miller, who'd been silent this whole time.

"Okay; I'll see if I can get another field-comm if you're gonna do that," Graham offered quietly. "The other guys don't know that Taylor has one; be best if they don't learn you do, either—if you want it."

"Yeah, thanks, Graham; I'd appreciate that," Patterson responded gratefully. "The rest of the guys really don't care what happens to these vamps, do they?"

"No," Miller confirmed, then sighed as the two handlers rose to leave the cell. "The fucked-up part is, I've seen this shit before. A group of 'scientists' were basically torturing demons—all in the name of scientific study, of course—and no one cared what any off-duty personnel did to 'em when they weren't needed for their so-called experiments, so long as they weren't permanently damaged. I'm half afraid we have some of the survivors assigned here now, thinking they can pull the same kinda crap as they did then."

"I catch anyone messing around with Rex, I'll gut the bastards," Taylor vowed, his voice pitched low so that only his companions—and the vampires closest to them as they walked back up the corridor—could hear his words.

"You an' me both, brother; you an' me both," Patterson fervently agreed.

~oOo~

All the handlers were gathered in the mess hall at 1000. Most, Taylor noted, looked scared half to death. Yeah, and it served 'em right, he thought with a mental sneer. _Today we take our vamps out of their nice, secure cells to 'play,' and those jerks have worked themselves up 'til they're terrified. _He only hoped that Rex would be tolerant of the upcoming stupidity. Vampires were not dogs, that was for sure. They felt themselves to be better than humans; he knew that Rex considered himself to own his handler, although he was careful not to explain that to Patterson. It was clear enough to him, after the extracurricular reading he'd done. He really didn't care _what_ Rex thought, so long as he did as he was told.

But Taylor wasn't overly concerned. He'd had Rex out once already, and everything had been cool. Sure, Rex had wanted that shower, but he'd gone back to his cell without making any trouble—Taylor had had enough on his plate right then as it was, so that had been all to the good. Still…

"All right, men, listen up," Major Greene called the room to attention. "Today each of you will remove your… Hunter… from his cell and begin his basic obedience training. He will be trained to walk at your side, or just half a step to the rear. He will stop when you do, dropping down to one knee unless _you_ indicate that he is to remain standing.

"You will keep your Hunter on leash at all times during this and all subsequent exercises, unless otherwise instructed. Keep in mind that vampires do not need to breathe; those choke collars they wear serve only as a reminder to obey, you can't choke one into submission. You will each have a trainer working with you, who can remotely trigger your Hunter's chip should he get too out of hand. Security personnel will accompany you also.

"Once you have your Hunter complying with your instructions, you will bring him down to Medical for a brief checkup, then return him to his cell.

"You will keep at this today until you elicit obedience from your Hunter; if you miss chow, too bad. So I recommend diligence on your parts.

"Trainers and escorts will be waiting for you at your vampire's quarters. Dismissed."

Patterson looked over at Taylor and grimaced. _Oh, yeah,_ Taylor thought, _**this**__ is gonna be a barrel of laughs._ He shook his head, then approached Major Greene. "Sir?" he began, attracting Greene's attention. "You _do_ realize, sir, that this is right in the middle of the vampires' sleep cycle? They're gonna be cranky enough just being disturbed now. They're _really_ not gonna like what we'll be asking them to do."

"Sergeant Taylor, your protest is duly noted," the captain standing beside Greene sneered at him. "I suggest you get your ass down to the vamp wing, if you don't want to be put on report."

Taylor glared at the man, then turned his back and stalked off without offering any military courtesies. _What a jerk. Hope one of the crazy ones eats him,_ he seethed, managing not to say it aloud only by the barest of margins.

Behind him, Greene prevented the captain from following after the pissed-off handler. "That was uncalled for, Otis; he actually has a very good point. Why the hell _did_ you schedule this first session for mid-morning, anyway?"

"Major Greene, sir," the man stammered, "Studies have shown that our men are most alert at this time of day; they'll be less irritable, less likely to make mistakes…"

Greene looked at him as if he had two heads and said nothing further, only shook his head and followed the men down to vamp territory. Oh, this was gonna be _so_ bad, he thought in belated realization. One major FUBAR, coming up.

~oOo~

Handlers already milled around uneasily outside their vampires' cells when Taylor got there. He had nearly forced himself to calm when his "security escort" made him blow up again. The idiot was drawing a bead on Rex with his Taser…

"Hey! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" Taylor demanded as he slapped the man's weapon aside just in time. The two small barbs "spanged" to one side of the helpless, though now-snarling vampire, shorting out the weapon as they made contact with each other on the tile floor. "You don't _ever_ Tase my Hunter, _especially_ if he's chained up and helpless!"

"He slipped his gag off somehow; it was this or trigger his chip to replace it," the man snapped back in his own defense.

"Asshole; next time try asking questions _first. I_ took it off him!" Taylor retorted as he roughly pushed the man to one side and dropped down to check his vamp for damage. "You okay, Rex?" he asked, running one hand over the vampire's neck and shoulders, totally ignoring his gameface or the way he snarled at the soldier in his doorway. "He didn't hit you with that, did he?" he pressed for a response.

Rex gave one final snarl, then looked at his handler. "No, he did not shoot me; you stopped him in time, Taylor," he answered, his voice still a low growl as he fought down his own anger.

"Yeah, well, they're jerks," Taylor muttered back, his temper at full steam again.

The trainer's voice pulled his attention back out to the corridor and gave him a focus for his ire. "Taylor, that gag needs to be replaced," the man said, trying for calm. He didn't know who was madder, the vampire or his handler.

"Oh? Why's that?" Taylor demanded, sticking a hand sideways into Rex's still-fanged mouth. "He's not gonna bite _me,"_ he continued, feeling the fangs quickly retract from his flesh as the startled vampire tried to pull back without hurting his human.

_"Are you crazy?!"_ the security guard demanded, shocked by this reckless-seeming display.

"He's not gonna bite me," Taylor insisted once more as he unlocked the end of Rex's tether-chain from the wall.

"Taylor," Rex began in low-voiced warning, but the human glared at him, challenge and defiance in his eyes. There was no soft look for his master now.

"You want out of here?" Taylor demanded, voice hard and authoritative. "This is how it's gonna be: you'll walk at my side quietly, or at most a step to my rear. You'll hold that place no matter what—it's no more than you'd expect from me if our places were reversed. Only, you'll go down to one knee when I stop, instead of a full kneel. That's for inside rules."

He paused to let the vampire protest if he would, but Rex just got a mutinous look in his still-yellow eyes.

"No comment?" Taylor continued, trying once more to calm himself down. "Okay," he started again, after drawing a deep breath—the trainer and the guard were watching in silent shock. "Outside, you'll take a knee also, unless we're shifting positions a lot. You'll probably see the rest of us doing it too; it makes us a smaller target than a stationary man standing upright. I do it, out on patrol."

"So, outside, at least, this is not a submissive posture?" Rex carefully controlled his anger to ask.

"No. Inside, though…" He made a face. "Y'know, it's not a lot different than one of us going to attention in the presence of a superior officer," he tried to soothe Rex's ruffled feathers, now that both he and the vamp seemed to be more reasonable. The trainer just gaped at what to him was an outlandish training method. "It's just one of those things that the military says you have to do."

"I am not _in_ your military," Rex started to object, but Taylor held up a hand to stop him.

"They say you belong to the military now; it was this or be dusted, and frankly, I'd rather not see you dust. It's just something you'll have to go along with, Rex," Taylor argued, needing to get his point across. "Look, the Powers that Be—my superiors—they wanted you guys trained like our guard dogs and bomb-sniffers—those dogs walk at heel, and sit or lay down when we stop walking. The first draft of these instructions had us forcing you guys down to _both_ knees, _regardless_ of where you were, which I thought was insane. You're helpless like that; very bad in a combat setting. I don't know who, or when they changed their minds, but I'm damned glad _someone_ got a clue."

Taylor was starting to sound desperate to Rex now, and he studied the human carefully. This was important to the man, he realized. And he was clearly breaking a number of rules for him already—he could hear struggles and yelps of pain from the captives to either side of him as those humans tried to force compliance from their charges. So, for his Pet's sake, he would do this, though it was a nearly intolerable insult and irked him greatly. "Very well, Taylor," he slowly agreed. "I will try to do as you wish. What is this kneeling position you wish of me?"

Taylor grinned and looked at his security guard. "Hey, bub," he called with a wicked gleam in his eye, "take a knee, why don'tcha?"

The man glared, but a quiet "do it" from the trainer had him dropping down to one knee.

Rex looked over at Taylor in surprise. "You do that when you feed me, sometimes," he said, his head tilted a little as he studied his Pet with new eyes.

"Yep. Sometimes it's just more comfortable, and it lets me move fast if I have to," Taylor agreed as he heard the guard rise to his feet again.

"I see. I can do that, then," the vampire agreed, feeling strangely better about this whole thing now. That "knee" posture would make him somewhat slower; it would show respect—whether he actually _meant_ it or not—but it would not leave him helpless.

"So," Taylor said, trying for a grin. "Shall we take a walk and see how Patterson is doing with Corey?"

He didn't really want to allow himself to be paraded around like some tame house pet, but there was little choice if he were to make his Pet look good. Rex tipped his head slightly to indicate his agreement, then moved closer to Taylor's side. "Do you wish me on your right- or left-hand side?" he asked, carefully schooling his voice. He let his human mask show finally as he waited for his handler's decision.

"I'm right-handed," Taylor answered thoughtfully, his voice a bit softer now. "I usually had Casey on my right, for better control if she got too excited. But I think I'd rather have you to my left, so you don't accidentally move into my line of fire—you're 'way taller than she was, Rex."

He had to laugh at that, drawing even more shocked looks from that so-called trainer when he took up position at Taylor's left side. "Very well," he said, his green eyes still dancing. "Let us go out and show those fools how it is done, and rescue Corey from his fears."

_"Once more unto the breach,"_ Taylor quoted with a chuckle as he headed out into the corridor, Rex carefully at his side. The trainer could only stand and gape.

~oOo~

Major Greene looked at the confusion in the vampire corridor with dismay, his aide glowering at his side. _What had the young fool expected?_ Greene wondered in disgust. Sure, _their_ men were more alert, for all the good it was doing them, but Taylor had been accurate in his prediction about the vampires' reactions. Several had had to have their chips triggered already, and the others' handlers were mostly ineffective. The vamps, though capable only of snarling, were doing a great job of intimidating their military handlers—and the guards as well, to be honest.

There were a few pools of calm in the chaos, mostly centered around the former Initiative troops who'd run patrols with Captain Miller to collect these hostiles. This handful of men augmented the MPs as security personnel for the vamps during this exercise; Greene was surprised that Miller himself wasn't watching Taylor's back this morning, as they seemed to have become inseparable. The captain was outside 381V's cell, though, and he didn't look all that pleased. Greene walked over to see what was going on, arriving just in time to hear the "trainer" make a complete ass of himself.

"Patterson, what seems to be the problem here?" Greene interrupted the trainer's diatribe, something about the use of a muzzle on that vamp. H381V, now released from the wall, was snarling at the trainer, having placed himself between Patterson and the doorway as if defending the man assigned to him from some perceived threat.

"Just a difference of opinion, sir," Patterson said, encouraging his Hunter to stay back with a hand on his arm instead of relying on the collar and leash. He seemed completed unaffected by the fact that his charge was in full gameface.

"Sir," the trainer said, turning to Greene with outrage on his face, "this man is refusing to accept my instructions and replace the muzzle on his Hostile. And Captain Miller—" here he shot a venomous look at the former Initiative soldier, "—took my chip control and refuses to administer discipline to correct the Hostile's aggressive behavior!"

"Sir, Corey doesn't need that thing," Patterson protested. "After last night, if he was gonna bite, he'd 'a tried already."

"If you believe that, you're as crazy as that damned Californian," the trainer spat out, rapidly losing what little self-control he had left.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" the major's aide practically snarled as he drew his sidearm. "Just shoot the damn thing and be done with it already!"

Miller disarmed the young captain before he could even aim the weapon. "Has everyone gone completely nuts around here?" he asked, appalled at the behavior of supposedly intelligent men. "Did you sleep through every briefing we were given? Bullets don't kill vampires; shoot him, and you'll just piss him off, you stupid idiot!"

"Wow; can anyone join this fun party?" Taylor asked from behind Greene, making everyone jump.

"I do not see where you would wish to," a soft voice drawled from beside him, causing Major Greene to catch his breath in surprise, and the other trainers to gape in shock—all except for Miller and Patterson. Those two just grinned at the others' surprise at the sight of Rex, calmly resting on one knee beside his handler, as ordered.

**End, Part 1**


End file.
